Rise (War Witch Book 1) (45 page)

The inside of the store was cozy and smelled of leather and cloth, inviting and rich. Taking her time, she wandered the wide aisles, taking in the various outfits. She'd never met a barbarian, but according to the tales she'd been raised on, they reveled in life in ways the more civilized people had forgotten. Seeing how they dressed, she could believe it, too.

Spotting a set of black pants with matching knee-boots and a long, sleeveless red shirt, she decided she would try that on and was shown to the changing rooms by Nerec, who gave her a wink as Esteban frowned at him. Chuckling as she gave the tall Deep Elf a discreet look of her own, she closed the door and stripped quickly, eager to try out the beautifully-dyed clothes.

She found the pants a good fit, snug but not binding, and the boots a perfect size. The shirt hung past her waist, however, and left more of her cleavage exposed than she'd expected. Shrugging, she cinched the ties around her waist and stepped back out, showing off. Esteban nodded appreciatively as Nerec whistled in delight.

Out of curiosity, she asked the price, and upon hearing it, felt her own face fall. Sixty tritters, the measure of Lansing gold currency. With a sigh, she admired herself in the mirror a moment, admitting she did look stunning, nothing like a simple farm girl from a backwoods village. Even with the kindly shopkeeper offering to knock ten tritters from the price, it was far beyond what they had.

Then she spotted the Masters board in the corner behind the front counter, and looked at the Elf with a wide grin, offering to play him for it. If she lost, she promised to clean his entire store for him. Weighing it a bit, he finally agreed, not seeing the look of pity Esteban tossed him.

Thirty minutes later, Chara all but skipped out of the store, wearing her new clothes, her old bundled and placed in a bag by Nerec as he swore to never make such a deal again in his life. Esteban noticed the soft grin on his face as they left though, and had to admit, the fellow had probably gotten his value for the clothes as he'd sat across the board, staring at her chest.

He couldn't say he liked that much, but his beloved was happy, so it was all well. Mostly. If he didn't think about it too much. Or at all.

For her part, Chara had found the Elf's attention flattering. She knew she shouldn't, especially with Esteban standing right there, but still, Nerec had been very easy on her eyes, and the casual flirtation they’d had over the board had gone right over her boyfriend’s head. She thought. Mostly.

Near the end of the street, Chara spotted the sign that made her stop dead, Esteban nearly bowling her over. Following her gaze and her wide smirk, he saw it as well, and nodded. Just what they'd been after.

Rayne's Shop Of Sorcery.

After parting ways with Chara and Esteban, Ramora and Leto had followed the excited Lieutenant down several floors and through a maze of hallways, Rills chatting incessantly, as he seemed to do all the time, about how exciting it was to be hosting so many prominent Blessed at once.

Reaching their destination, the young soldier showed them into what Ramora could only describe as a training facility. The long, wide chamber was filled on one side with different types of terrain models, and on the other with areas for sword fighting, archery, and mystical practices. Across from where they entered, a round table sat, with enough seating for two dozen people, racks of weapons lying between them and it.

Six people had gathered round the table, talking loudly even from the distance they stood, though none of what they said carried well enough to make out. Ramora picked out a Troll quickly, a Halfling, Dwarf and Ogre as well. The other two she couldn't be sure of.

Waving them to follow, Rills guided them past the weapon stands and to the table, where the conversation fell silent, those gathered watching the newcomers arrive. As they approached, Ramora noticed the Troll wore a blindfold, and the other two she hadn't been able to identify earlier were a human and a Deep Elf.

This is an interesting gathering
, she mused. It was rare to see this many Blessed at once, much less from such a wide assortment of the Six Races. Untar was indeed a respected man to get this many diverse people in the room and working together.

"Please allow me to introduce General Leto Alimon," Rills said with a sharp salute.

"We know who he is, ya daft lad," the Halfling snorted. "I'm more interested in the lady there, and if she be single."

"Her aura would swallow yours whole," the Troll intoned, inclining her head slightly. "Best you stay with barmaids and prostitutes."

"Those kinds of women at least won't be too harsh a judge of your shortcomings," the Dwarf laughed.

"Oy, piss off, the lot of ya," the Halfling shot back.

"Um," Rills stammered.

"Dash off now, toy soldier," the Halfling grinned. "We can be makin' our own introductions from here. All Blessed and what not, after all."

"Okay, I guess, sure," Rills fumbled about for a moment, then saluted again before marching from the room.

The Halfling shook his head slowly. "Poor lad, doesn't know his asshole from his piehole."

"That's enough, Bit," the human cut in.

The Halfling snorted again and propped his feet up on the table. The Ogre knocked them off, drawing an annoyed look from him as she begged him to do something about it. Perhaps wisely, he chose not to.

"General Alimon," the human said with a slight bow. "I believe I'm already aware of who your companion is. Perhaps you could make introductions all the same."

Nodding, Leto rested a hand on Ramora's back, encouraging her to step forward. "May I present the adopted daughter, priestess, and Blessed of Ramor, Ramora."

Bit whistled long and loud. "That wee slip of a girl the War Wolf carted off to the High World and been raisin' ya mean? Didn't she grow up all curvy in the right places?"

"That would be Bit Nittick," the human told them. "Blessed of Amaron. Please forgive his raucous nature. I assure you, he's a very skilled warrior."

"Oh, aye, that I be," the Halfling smirked, holding up his left hand to show the Horse head mark of his God on the back of it. "And my friend there with all the gray hair and frown lines be Rick Westerman, Blessed of her lady of Crocodiles, Terakus."

Rick scowled a bit, making the Halfling laugh with glee and shout, "That's it, laddy! Show 'em those nasty mouth lines! One day, I promise ya, he'll crack a smile, though I think it'd be enough to shatter his whole face."

Shaking his head, the seasoned veteran lifted his left hand, showing the Crocodile tail mark present on the palm, and waved for the others to introduce themselves. Ramora could've told him there was no need, as she knew them all by reputation.

The Troll leaned forward slightly, the blindfold over her eyes revealing nothing of her expression as her pitch-black hair shifted slightly against her dark blue skin while she lifted her left hand to show the Bat-shaped mark placed there by her patron deity. "I am Tanna Rethrick, born of the line of Gellim Rethrick, he who carved the foundation of Moor Daal, Blessed of Neglis."

Pushing himself to his feet, the bald and beardless Dwarf bowed deeply, his long rust-colored mustache nearly touching the floor, before showing the Crow head on the back of his left hand. "I am Flick Diamondheart, son of Rysthis Diamondheart, Blessed of Rialda, at your eternal service, lord and madam."

"Izra Tallamora," the Deep Elf said, bowing gracefully, the Bull head mark on the back of her right hand showing clearly. Her bone-white hair, shot through with highlights of silver and pearl, caught up in a ponytail, bobbed as it curled down her back, stark against her dark toffee skin. Her garnet eyes, flecked with ruby and crimson, glittered in delight. "I have no grand lineage to proclaim, but I'm a faithful servant of Hepheron in all things, and Blessed of the Great Bull."

"Leaves me, does it," the Ogre said as she pushed to her feet, her green skin brilliant against the shock of blood-red hair that fell wild and loose down her back, her small close-set brown eyes betraying her intelligence as she studied the two carefully. She lifted her right hand, showing the curling Snake mark placed upon the back by the Divine, saying, "Sabra Finiseye, Blessed of Verea, daughter of the Blackwarder Clan that roams the lands between Savacal and the Tall Mountains."

"And I'm, of course, Leto Alimon, of Tysol, Blessed of Grannax," Leto said, bowing in respect. "I'm honored to share a table with you all."

"Like I told the hyper lad, we know who ya are," Bit chuckled. "I don't think there's a man, woman, or child walking the world who hasn't heard yer name at least twice, boyo."

"He was being respectful," Tanna told him.

The Halfling snorted a laugh. "Aye, that he was, and lookit what it got him. Made fun of, that's what!"

"Ignore him as you like," Rick said as he stepped around the table to shake Leto's hand. "That, I've found, is the only thing that actually seems to irk him."

"Hey now," Bit clamored.

"Sit down and shut up, before I make you eat your teeth, tiny man," Sabra growled.

"Make you eat something," he muttered.

"If you mean your cock," she grinned, showing off the tusks that sprung from her lower jaw. "It isn't sturdy enough to pick my teeth with."

"Aye, and I be thankful for it, too," Bit retorted. "That gaping maw be the last place in the Middle World I'd want to stick it. Now, our fair-haired lady friend, over there, she be another matter."

Ramora pulled her sword and held it to his throat in a single blinding motion.

"Or not," Bit whimpered.

Sabra laughed uproariously at that. "I suspect I'd have an easier time finding myself in her bed than you!"

"You’re both welcome to each other," the Halfling grumbled as Ramora sheathed her blade.

"Pity you couldn't see that, Tanna," Izra snickered. "She was all, like, whoosh, bam, right in his face!"

"The sound of it was pleasant enough," the Troll replied.

"It was all kinds of hot," the Deep Elf said, eying Ramora appreciatively.

Ramora threw her a wink and a smile, sending the Elf into a fit of giggles as Tanna shook her head slowly.

"Bloody Hells," Bit murmured. "The lovely dreams I be having tonight."

"Pity all they will be is dreams," Flick laughed, giving the Halfling a sharp slap that nearly tossed him from his chair.

"Perhaps I will tell him of the reality in detail," Tanna said with a serious tone. "Or perhaps not."

"Right cold, that is, to even threaten," the Halfling said. "Ya can't see it, ya blind git, but I'm givin' ya the finger right now."

"No, you're not," she said, a dark smile curling her lips.

Bit glared as he flopped back in his seat. "Dunno how you know that."

"I see better than any of you," she told him, easing down in a chair as well.

"If we could focus on why we're here," Rick cut in. "I'd remind you all this isn't the time for play."

"Of course," Leto replied, motioning for the other Blessed to proceed to the table.

"Come sit with me, Ramora," Izra cooed, waving her over. "If there's not room in the chair, there's plenty in my lap."

"Hey, now," Flick roared. "You were flirting with me just a bit ago, woman!"

"Yeah, then she showed up, and I stopped," the Deep Elf snickered.

Snorting, the dwarf fell into his seat. "Damn Elves."

Patting him on the head as she passed, Ramora sat between the towering Troll and the smirking Elf as Leto took a chair opposite her, giving her a wide grin. Rick joined them, sitting between the Blessed of Grannax and Sabra, who nodded in respect to Ramora, and got one back in return.

"If we're all done acting like children," the Blessed of Terakus said.

"I be just startin', so ya knows," Bit grinned.

"King Untar informed me a bit ago that one more will be joining us when we arrive in Ricmar," the human continued, ignoring the Halfling with deft skill. "Rumilla Descartes herself."

Everyone at the table sobered instantly.

"Seriously?" Sabra blurted.

Rick nodded. "Untar received word from her just this morning. She's on her way from Isnar as we speak, and will be awaiting our arrival."

"Bloody Hells," Bit muttered. "Might as well the rest of us stay home, if that she-devil be joinin' the fight. We be doin' nothin' but gettin' in her way."

"Even the strongest warrior requires assistance when the foe is great," Tanna intoned. "Our mission bodes well with this news. I see victory becoming a possibility."

"Bah," Sabra grunted as she thudded a fist to the table. "With that flame-haired glory hog at our side, our chances for slaughter will be thin."

"This isn't about getting our slaughter on," Izra reminded her. She rested a playful hand on Ramora's knee, making her jump. "This Draco guy has amassed entirely too much power for a Dark Blessed. We have to take him down before he gets any stronger."

"Indeed," Flick agreed, eyeballing the way the Elf stroked the warrior’s leg. "As much as my ax hungers to taste Demon blood, we should remember the larger goal in this."

"What says the daughter of Ramor?" Tanna asked, turning her blind gaze on Ramora.